


Where the Pleasant Fountains Lie

by shakespeareishq



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Glory Hole, M/M, Percy sucks six dicks and that's amazing, Sub Percy, Top Newt, You can be subby and also be jaded and cynical they aren't mutually exclusive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9007861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeareishq/pseuds/shakespeareishq
Summary: Sometimes Percy likes to have a night to himself.(Sometimes Newt Scamander ruins this, but Percy isn't going to say anything about it. His mouth is, after all, otherwise occupied.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just gotta write glory hole porn.
> 
> Initially I was waiting until I had written a second chapter to put this on ao3, where Newt actually fucks Percy, but since The Tendinitis is happening right now I can't say when or if that will ever materialize. Still! It stands perfectly well on its own so there's no reason NOT to post it. 
> 
> Title is a quote from Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis, chosen more for the reference to oral sex than for any parallels to said poem: "Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry/Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie."

Sometimes Percy likes to have a night to himself.

Maybe for some people that means curling up on the couch with a book and a massive blanket, but for Percy that means spending the evening in a place like this, a place for people like him. 

‘Inverts.’ ‘Merlin’s crowd.’ ‘The Fairies.’ 

This particular den of dissolutes is called The Phoenix, and Percy and the bartender Joseph go so far back as to recall their first fumbled handjobs in the prefect’s bathroom together at fifteen. Joseph is good for keeping secrets and passing along gossip, all for the right price.

Really that’s what sort of allows everyone to pretend that this is legal. Percy never receives any money. He pays Joseph under a false name to ‘rent a room’ for the evening, eyes of the other patrons boring into Percy’s back the whole time, and for Joseph to keep his mouth tightly shut about anything else and on paper that’s all it is.

Granted, no one said he had to  _ stay _ in his room.  

He deposits his coat, jacket, vest, tie, and wand on the bed of said room, not wanting anything to become soiled that didn’t have to. His wandless magic was perfectly suitable if there were to be any problem, but there never was. The kind of people he’d be interacting with tonight all had a single goal in mind, and causing trouble wasn’t part of it.

If he’s lucky he sees no one on the way to the bathrooms. Tonight he is not. 

“ _ Percy _ darling, I thought you’d left us for good.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. Percy doesn’t like to think he has friends but there are some people he enjoys being around more than others, and most of them frequent this club. “How could you think so little of me Genevieve,” he says in mock hurt.

In school, Genevieve had been Thomas, two years younger than Percy and in different houses but they’d crossed paths on several occasions nonetheless. The minute she graduated she’d fled the family home in Georgia and been Miss Genevieve ever since. Tonight, her green silk dress hugged her ample curves in defiance of the more androgynous silhouette that was popular these days. Were Percy not so devoted to cock it would almost be compelling. 

“I heard the big bad wolf snatched you away for three months,” she drawled. “Of course no one thought to ask us. We would’ve known it was unlike you to stop coming by.”

He neatly sidesteps the implied question about Grindelwald. He’s not up for discussing it again, not tonight. “Am I really becoming so predictable?”

“Timothy swore he was going to march into your office down at MACUSA and force you to apologize for abandoning him. Predictable is the  _ least _ of your worries. You are some of those boys’ life blood Percy.”

Percy hums in agreement. “And they are mine.”

“One day I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a real woman,” she promises with a grin. 

“And one day I might even let you try.” 

She slaps his ass as he brushes past her down the hall. He takes it as a good omen.

The second stall is bigger, and it’s the one he generally frequents so he has more room to work with. He tosses down a cushioning charm with a wave of his fingers. In his younger days he would have forgone the measure, preferring the cool bite of the tile and the bruises on his knees that he’d let linger for days before healing them. But on this side of forty if he wanted to truly make an evening of this before the pain became more annoying than fun, the charm was necessary. 

A trace of his finger in a circle on the wall separating the stalls, and the inside of the circle vanishes. A second cushioning charm around the rim of the hole because no one wants splinters in delicate areas, and then he waits. 

It’s not long, just enough time for a few deep slow breaths and the beginnings of that wonderful sense of calm focus that overtakes him on these nights. These nights when he can forget everything else bothering him, let his mind go blank, and focus on the task at hand. 

The task at hand begins with fingers, slipping through the hole just big enough to fit a man’s wrist through and beckoning him closer. Percy kisses each knuckle and nuzzles into the fingers for a minute before he begins sucking. Not too much, just a taste of what’s to come. The hand drags its spit-slick fingers over Percy’s lips and down his chin to grasp at his jaw and pull his mouth open. Percy holds the position while the hand retreats and Percy hears the man’s zip open.

Percy hadn’t recognized the fingers but he does recognize the cock. He doesn’t always, or even usually, but Jeremiah’s got twin moles just above the base that Percy remembers from their trainee days. (“Prove to me you’ve memorized all 25 of the counter-curses for tomorrow’s exam and I’ll make it worth your while.” “Is that a promise Percy?”) He’s in nearly every time Percy stops by The Phoenix and he’s got a lovely fat cock that makes Percy’s mouth water as he pushes it, still soft, through the hole. 

The feel of Jeremiah’s cock thickening and filling out in Percy’s mouth is something to be savored. Percy cradles the full length against his tongue while that’s still an easy task to accomplish, and suckles at the head when it isn’t, encouraging him to grow harder under his touch. When his jaw needs a rest Percy sucks lingering kisses down the shaft and laps at the balls, relishing the texture of the wiry blond hair there. The scent and taste of him, salty and musky, fills Percy’s senses and he hums his contentment right up against the head of Jeremiah’s cock, causing him to buck up into Percy’s mouth, stopped from making Percy choke only by the wall separating them. Jeremiah isn’t so enormous that Percy can’t take him all the way down though, so he does, pushing his nose right between those moles and inhaling. 

A gush of precome fills his mouth,, and as Percy pulls back a thread of it connects them for a brief instant before it breaks and lands on Percy’s chin. Percy gives the head a sticky kiss, tonguing at the slit to chase the flavor. 

He settles into a rhythm, eventually. Finger and thumb at the base holding Jeremiah steady so Percy can bob with abandon, swirling his tongue in nonsense patterns every time he pauses for breath, spelling his name at one point, and then Jeremiah’s because it’s longer. He applies sucking pressure as he reaches the head, and swallows as he reaches the base. It’s not long after that when he hears Jeremiah groan out “fuck fuck  _ fuck _ ” and as soon as the final curse leaves his lips Jeremiah’s coming, hot thick spurts of it down the back of Percy’s throat. 

Percy keeps sucking, lessening the pressure as the last sluggish drops trickle onto his tongue. Finally, Jeremiah pulls back and murmurs a cleaning charm before tucking himself away. 

Sitting back on his heels to catch his breath and lick his lips, Percy rolls his eyes when his fellow senior auror tosses out a “I’ll have the McKinley report on your desk Monday boss!” as he’s leaving. It’s one of Percy’s unbreakable rules that once he’s in here he doesn’t speak, but he can’t force other people to grant him the same courtesy. 

The next man has skin maybe half a shade darker than Seraphina’s, and he’s a thruster. Luckily Percy warmed up with Jeremiah or else it would be a real challenge to avoid gagging. He seems to want Percy to hold perfectly still and be used, so Percy tries his best to oblige. The man pulls nearly all the way out when he comes, so that most of it ends up on Percy’s face instead of in his mouth. Personally, Percy doesn’t see the appeal if you can’t see the other person’s face, but this isn’t  _ about _ him, he reminds himself, and remembering that makes him shiver and submit, not even bothering to clean himself off before the second man leaves and the next one arrives. It’s not like anyone else will ever know.

His next playmate comes in wearing a sparkly pink number, lifting up flowing satin with perfectly manicured hands to reveal the red leaking cock beneath and no knickers whatsoever. Percy reaches through to snap the straps on their equally pink garters and he gets a charming giggle for his troubles. Their cock is slender, curving gently to the left, and Percy sucks with enthusiasm, his nose filling with the scent of their warm vanilla perfume and his ears with the soft sighs they let out every time Percy flicks his tongue just under the head. At one point they reach up to grip the top of the stall wall for better leverage and Percy glances up long enough to spot a wedding ring set with swirling opal. 

It’s not his place to ask questions, only to keep sucking. 

He coaxes the come from another two men after pink satin, one whose pubic hair was completely white, possibly by design rather than by nature, who continuously called him Angelo, and one portly gentleman with a tattoo of a dragon which kept swooping through Percy’s limited field of vision, and a thick silver ring piercing the tip of his cock. Percy had wanted it in his mouth so badly that  _ he _ moaned. 

Then there’s perhaps ten minutes of lull, and Percy is debating whether he’s had enough for the night when someone else enters the bathroom and Percy figures that he’s up for one more. 

Rather than simply fumbling for his zipper, this one decides to  _ talk _ . Which is categorically a mistake unless you’re a cheeky bastard like Jeremiah. 

“I should perhaps warn that I’ve never done this before.”

Shit. Percy knows that voice. He knows it like he knows the color of the coat the other man removes to drape over the stall wall. He knows it like he knows the fucking bowtruckle currently scrambling underneath the gap between the stalls to hug Percy ‘round the knee.

“Sorry! That’s Pickett. He, erm, usually doesn’t like strangers.” 

It’s just that Percy’s  _ not _ a stranger, and neither is Newt. Percy, however, appears to the be one holding all the cards. He’d like to keep it that way until he figures out what exactly it is he plans to do. 

The smart decision, of course, would be to apparate back to his room, collect his things, and go home to furiously masturbate to the idea of getting to service Newt, without actually doing it. 

Percy doesn’t feel like being smart tonight. 

He shoos Pickett back over to Newt’s stall. He doesn’t think bowtruckles are capable of human speech. But if they are then it’s too late anyways, and he doesn’t particularly want an audience for this. Honestly couldn’t Newt have left the damn thing at home? His suitcase full of dangerous and mostly illegal magical creatures is nowhere in sight. 

Pickett climbs up Newt’s leg out of sight, and Percy, realizing that Newt isn’t going to get on with it, reaches through the hole as far as his arm will go and starts trying to fumble for Newt’s pants himself. His attempts fail but Newt does get the hint and pulls himself out, Percy catching a glimpse of a scar running from somewhere on his thigh to somewhere under his shirt before Newt presses too close to the hole for Percy to see anything but his cock. 

Which, for the record, might be the most perfect cock Percy has ever seen. He’s not overly thick or overly long, or bejeweled in any fashion, but he’s well proportioned and just… _ pretty _ . Delicate foreskin, with a dark pink head peeking out obscenely from inside, heavy balls Percy can immediately picture slapping against his thighs as Newt fucks him, all framed in a thatch of ginger curls that Percy desperately hopes he’ll be picking out of his teeth for the next  _ week _ . 

Newt’s only half hard, and Percy can sense the nervous energy coming from him. He decides to start slow, with just his hand, both to tease himself with not being allowed to taste yet and hopefully to relax Newt somewhat. Of course Percy’s curious why Newt decided to do this, here, now, tonight, for the first time ever, but all he can do is make it the best experience for Newt that he can. Maybe Newt will want to come back. 

At the first touch of Percy’s fingers to Newt’s cock Newt moans, a soft “oh” of a sound that speaks straight to Percy’s own arousal. His usual policy is to wait until he gets home and then luxuriate in the evening’s memories from the comfort of his own bed, but he has to grind the heel of his free hand against himself to relieve the sudden strain against his zipper.   

Percy licks his palm to lessen the friction somewhat and gives Newt even strokes until he’s rock hard, darkening to a gorgeous pink that Percy imagines being echoed all over Newt’s face and down his chest. 

“ _ Please. _ ”

Percy almost doesn’t notice that that’s what Newt said, because that isn’t the fantasy.  _ No one  _ who comes to see Percy like this ever says  _ please _ . 

All restraint flies out the window the moment Newt decides to beg. Percy buries his face in Newt and doesn’t come up for air until he thinks he’d be ok suffocating just like this. Most of the others, they’ve got some fantasy in their head that Percy is just a conduit for. He can be Angelo, he can be anybody. But for Newt this seems to  _ be _ the fantasy, little murmurs of “yes, just like that” and “right there, again.” He’s vocal and he’s bossy and Percy adores it. 

Percy follows his instructions like a well-trained show pony. Sucks where Newt wants him to suck, licks where Newt wants him to lick. He rolls Newt’s balls in his hand and pulls each one into his mouth until every inch of skin that Percy can reach is wet from his attentions and Newt’s precome, which drips down his length in steady rivulets, Percy all too happy to track each one back to its source. 

He tries to pull out every trick he knows in the moments Newt is too busy moaning incoherently to give orders, twisting his hand, fluttering his tongue over the head, pressing Newt’s cock into his soft inner cheek and massaging the outside with his fingers. He’s in his element here, in some respects more than he is anywhere else, and the fact that it’s  _ Newt _ , sweet Newt, who some of his coworkers have taken to calling ‘sunshine,’ who stared down a full-grown obscurus and wasn’t afraid, who Percy owes his very life after Newt rescued him from Grindelwald and who he’s wanted in his bed ever since, gives Percy a deep sense of contentment. This is unshakably  _ right _ .

Suddenly an anonymous blowjob in a bathroom isn’t nearly enough. Percy wants to be able to spread Newt out on his bed and worship him properly, wants to kiss every freckle and scar, wants to put his mouth far lower than it currently is, wants to push his tongue inside. He wants Newt to open him up with those clever fingers of his and watch as Percy sinks down on his cock, wants Newt to pinch his nipples until they hurt, wants Newt to only let him come when Newt gives the order. 

But that’s not what Newt consented to. He still thinks he’s being serviced by a stranger, and it’s far too late to try and renegotiate for anything more than that. 

“Do you, would you mind if I,  _ oh yes very good _ , were to fuck your mouth?”

The last thing Percy can do right now is answer that question using his words, though he suspects he probably sounds so fucked out after five other cocks doing that very thing that Newt possibly wouldn’t recognize his voice. Instead he opens his mouth as wide as he can and presses it right up against the hole. It’s the first time he’s ever heard Newt swear, and he knows tonight when he’s in his own bed once more he’s only going to be able to imagine Newt whispering increasingly filthy things in his ear while Percy jams a few fingers inside himself and aches for Newt’s cock.

Newt’s thrusts tickle the back of his throat and Newt politely stops before it can become worse than that, but Percy is a needy bitch who wants those last two inches of Newt’s cock in him and Newt’s balls swinging against his chin, tears stinging at his eyes, and Newt has no idea the frustration he’s causing by being a gentleman about it. 

The best technique Percy can manage like this is little pulls of his tongue against the underside of Newt’s cock, but it’s enough. Newt’s balls draw up, the tension in his body tight as a bowstring. It’s only half a dozen more thrusts before–

“Mr. Graves!”

And Percy pulls back in shock just in time for the last spurt of Newt’s come to miss his mouth and land on the side of his nose instead.

There is dead silence in the room. Newt’s softening cock is still hanging out of the hole. Both men are breathing heavily. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Percy manages to croak, breaking his unbreakable rule without a thought. Yeah, he sounds  _ wrecked _ . Lucky for him it’s a good approximation of how he feels, too.

“I should’ve told you who I was, and that I knew it was you. It was very rude of me not to.”

“Newt,” Percy asks, in that tone he uses when the junior aurors are being particularly obtuse, “did you really think I didn’t know it was you?” 

It’s Newt’s turn to be nonplussed. “But, how could you?” 

“I can guarantee you, with complete certainty, that there isn’t a single other English wizard in the whole of New York who has a pet bowtruckle.”

“He isn’t a pet! He’s a–oh but that isn’t your point is it.” 

“It isn’t.” Percy tries a different line of questioning. “How did you know where I’d be tonight?”

“I didn’t! At all. I just, er, came here on Queenie’s recommendation and one of your aurors, Jeremiah, he recognized me and we got to talking. I rather foolishly confessed finding you attractive and he got this excited look on his face and told me where you were, and that you wouldn’t mind if I wanted to, ah, ask a favor, as he put it. Said you would be doing favors for everybody all night.”

Percy is stuck debating whether Jeremiah is getting fired on Monday or getting a fucking raise, but then Newt’s speech replays in his head. 

“You think I’m attractive?” 

A pause, and then, “May we please have the rest of this conversation face to face?”

Those are clear evasion tactics, but Newt does have a point. Percy waits until Newt’s back in his pants before waving his hand to replace the missing chunk of wall, and braces himself on it to stand, knees creaking unattractively. He half-limps over to the sink to wash his face, as it’s still covered in at least three people’s come, and when he looks up from toweling himself dry Newt’s standing behind him, their eyes locking in the mirror. 

“So.” Newt states.

“So.” Percy agrees. 

He turns to face Newt properly then, leaning back on the sink and crossing his arms. 

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Newt begins.

“Why not?” 

“I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I think I’m possibly still not sure. Even if you knew it was me it’s still my fault for not telling you the truth from the beginning, and it would be understandable if you no longer wanted anything to do with me because of it.”

Newt looks forlornly at the ground. Frankly, Percy is too tired for this bullshit. 

“Newt. I would’ve wanted to do it if I didn’t know it was you, and knowing it was you only made me want to do it more. Trust me when I say you did not force me into anything. Any guy can stick his dick through there but nobody can  _ make _ me put it in my mouth. So quit pitying yourself, and certainly don’t pity me either. Did you have fun?”

Newt nods. 

“Then we had fun. If that’s all you wanted then that’s all you got.”

“What if it wasn’t all I wanted?”

“What else did you have in mind?” Percy tries not to hold his breath waiting for Newt’s answer. 

“I…For starters, I wondered if perhaps I could return the favor.” 

“In here?”

“If you’d like.” High spots of color mark Newt’s nervousness at the proposition. “Or somewhere else.”

“What if I said that, instead of you returning the favor, I wanted you to fuck me?”

Newt gasps and exhales out a “Yes!” then follows up even more excitedly. “Yes, I would like that very much. Oh Mr. Graves I would–”

“Newt. Seeing as I know what your come tastes like, and how you sound when you’re spilling it down my throat, I think you can safely drop the formality.”

Newt huffs a little laugh. “Yes of course. Percy.”

He tests the name in his mouth a few times, seeming to decide that he likes it. Percy’s erection had flagged with the revelation that Newt knew everything the whole time and the subsequent conversation, but Newt trying on his name like he might try on a new coat, deciding that he likes the fit, stirs Percy’s arousal back to life.

It is, in retrospect, very stupid that he and Newt are standing so far apart when they could be kissing. Percy rectifies this serious judgement lapse in two strides, stealing his own name right out of Newt’s mouth. Newt sinks into it, grasping at the wall behind him for purchase and finding none, deciding instead to further muss Percy’s already hopeless hair. Newt’s mouth tastes like Percy’s new religion.

They’re still kissing when Percy apparates them back to his apartment. He can go back to the club for his things in the morning. 

The kiss is only broken by a particularly impressive gurgle from Percy’s stomach. It’s almost the least sexy thing Percy’s traitorous body could’ve chosen to do in that moment. 

Newt laughs. “When was the last time you ate?”

“It depends entirely on whether you consider semen a meal.” Percy deadpans. 

“That’s disgusting.” But Newt’s still laughing. 

“It’s too late for dinner, but let’s pretend it isn’t and eat something. And talk some more. There aren’t many things I want in a relationship, but you may as well know what they are in case you decide you’d rather keep this to a single evening.”

“Trying to scare me away already?’”

“Apparently Timothy thinks me going missing for three months is akin to abandoning him. I can’t imagine how he’ll feel if I take myself off the market entirely.”

“You mean down at the club?” Newt ponders this for a moment. “Well I wouldn’t mind actually, if you wanted to keep doing that.”

Percy raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You wouldn’t.”

“No.” Newt replies honestly. “The thought of the head of the department of magical law enforcement himself on his knees sucking off anyone who will stand still long enough is…compelling, to put it mildly. I find myself wanting to watch, if such a thing would be permissible.”

Percy lets the fantasy out, unbidden, just how he’s dreamed of it. “You’d have to vet them for me. Protect me from anyone truly nasty. Tell me how to get better at it, make me keep going until I’ve pleased you.”

Newt reaches up to gently press Percy’s face into the soft crook of Newt’s neck and Percy breathes him in for long minutes before Newt answers, voice barely a murmur like he doesn’t want to break the spell. 

“I think I can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find more Fantastic Beasts semi-fic-things, or just come talk to me, at http://rootingformephistopheles.tumblr.com


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